


jealousy drabble [anonymous tumblr request]

by Abradystrix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Jealousy, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24759085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abradystrix/pseuds/Abradystrix
Summary: Anon: Do you mind making a one-shot of Ron and Hermione jealousy traits? Without bashing of any characters?~~~Ron and Hermione have an eventful visit to the children's school, forcing them to face some of their jealousy head on. Rated E for the second chapter, an NSFW outtake.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

It’s just after 6pm on a warm March evening. 

The door to the house bursts open, and Hermione and Ron dash out.

‘Be good for Teddy!’ Hermione calls over her shoulder. 

There’s a gleeful laugh and an ominous smash from the living room, but before Hermione can be pulled back into the house, Ron grabs her hand and leads the way down the garden path.

‘They’ll be fine,’ he assures her, his words not matching the vague look of concern on his face. Hermione squeezes his hand as they hurry down the street.

‘Are you sure we can’t—’

‘No, Ron! There are Muggle parents there, they’ll notice if we just Apparate into the middle of the playground. Besides, it’s only a ten-minute walk.’

Ron grumbles as they cross the road, barrelling towards the children’s primary school. 

Run by a very understanding headteacher, who just happens to be a Squib from an old wizarding family, Rose and Hugo have been loving every moment of their primary school education. Magical mishaps are swept kindly under the carpet, and a small group of wizarding children attend alongside their Muggle peers. 

They’ve been very lucky to find this school, but the thought of parent’s evening is still irritating to Ron, as he had expressed the night prior. ‘Can’t we just read the parchment report like everyone else? Why do we have to give up a perfectly good evening to go and talk about how great they are? I bloody know they’re great! We made them!’ Silenced by a glare from his wife, he had agreed to attend and it is that agreement that he is cursing now, as they speed along the neighbouring streets, with his hastily tied necktie tickling his throat.

By the time they arrive at the school, they’re very nearly late. 

With a frustrated grimace, Hermione says hello to the polite and unassuming school secretary, Thomas, and leads Ron to a large classroom where their fellow parents are waiting. They take a seat on the red plastic chairs and Ron lets out a sigh, another tiring day at the shop taking its toll on his feet. Hermione pulls her thick purple diary out of her handbag and scans the page.

‘So, we’ve got Mr Simon at 7, but before that we’re seeing Ms Mackley.’

‘Two of them?’ Ron complains loudly, garnering a look from one of the fathers sitting next to them. Hermione shoots Ron a look and smiles apologetically at the man.

‘Yes, Ron, two,’ she whispers, irritated. ‘One for Hugo and one for Rose. They’re in different classes.’

‘Oh. Yeah.’ 

He feels slightly stupid, but tries to put on a brave face as other parents filter in and he waves to some of those who has gotten to know from the school gates.

They sit for a couple of minutes before Ms Mackley appears to call for them. 

Ron has never met Hugo’s teacher - she came in to replace his former teacher just the month prior. He sits up a little straighter as she smiles brightly at them. Her hair is a honey-coloured blonde, and falls in waves to her shoulders, held back from her face by a sleek silver hairslide. She’s wearing a black dress with a red belt that seems to accentuate her soft curves, and her eyes are a very clear shade of blue. 

If Ron hadn’t known better, he could’ve sworn it was Lavender, or at least her sister. By the look on Hermione’s face, she’s thinking the exact same thing. He groans inwardly. Hermione has made her peace with Lavender many years ago - he’d go as far as to say that they’re friendly now - but there’s something about that whole relationship (if you could even call it that) that still pushes her buttons.

‘Mr and Mrs Granger-Weasley?’ Ms Mackley asks, geturing for them to come with her. 

Ron doesn’t miss the way Hermione makes sure to entwine her fingers in his as she smiles at Ms Mackley, in a way that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. 

As they walk to the classroom, Ms Mackley points out some art on the walls. She pauses briefly at a painting of Hugo’s, a green landscape with three distinctive Quidditch goalposts in the background. She smiles at Ron.

‘He gets that from you, I’m guessing?’

Unless Ron is very much mistaken, she’s just winked at him. He thinks he’s probably right as Hermione is now holding his hand so tightly he thinks a bone might crack. He tries to subtly shake her off, or at least loosen her grip, as they keep walking.

‘Uh, I – yeah, s’pose.’

_What a response_ , he thinks ruefully. He feels horribly like he used to when Fleur would appear. Thankfully the classroom isn’t far away.

Ms Mackley’s classroom is bright. The room is warm, full of yellow plastic chairs, low slung wooden tables and children’s art supplies. A blackboard stands at the front of the classroom with various sums written on it in pleasing coloured chalk. She slips behind her desk, adorned with flowers and a photo frame facing her seat. Ron and Hermione sit down opposite her, in two slightly lowered plastic chairs. Hermione is still holding Ron’s hand in hers.

‘Well,’ Ms Mackley begins, seemingly not noticing the redness in Ron’s ear’s or the slightly hardened look in Hermione’s eyes, ‘there’s really not too much to say about Hugo. He’s a lovely, well-mannered boy and a pleasure to have in class.’

Ron feels Hermione relax a little and sit up a little taller. He does too, feeling immensely proud of his son. Ms Mackley smiles warmly at them, tossing her hair over her shoulder. He hears Hermione give a little huff.

‘Of course, that’s often down to the parents,’ Ms Mackley goes on, beaming at them. ‘And with such a loving, present father as you Mr Granger-Weasley…’

Ron feels his whole face flush.

‘What do you mean by that?’ Hermione snaps.

Ms Mackley looks taken aback.

‘Oh, um, just that I’ve heard that Mr Granger-Weasley is often here to collect the children and that he contributes so much to the baking sales…’

Ron wishes the ground would swallow him up. Hermione’s nostrils flare.

‘Well, you see, Ms. Mackley, my _husband_ ’ (her emphasis on that word is unmissable) ‘is very supportive of my professional career, and so while we divide things entirely _equally_ his hours are much more amenable to collecting our children.’

‘Of course, I didn’t mean… I meant no offense, Mrs Granger-Weasley, we know you’re a very busy woman.’

Somehow this doesn’t seem to help. 

Ms Mackley senses the tension and leans over the table, conspiratorially.

‘Look, I know we’re not supposed to talk about it but I’m very much in support of your new Goblin Act.’

Hermione looks taken aback.

‘I’m sorry, what?’

‘What you’re doing with the Ministry. It’s excellent. My partner - her father works at the Ministry so we keep up to date with it all.’

‘You’re not — you’re a witch?’

‘Oh, goodness no. I just met one and fell in love.’ Ms Mackley smiles dreamily, falling back into her seat.

This turnaround is a lot for Ron to process. Hermione seems equally flummoxed, though her demeanour has softened considerably. Ms Mackley picks up the photo frame on her desk and turns it around.

Cho Chang stares back at them from the frame, one arm around Ms Mackley and the other tousling the hair of a small child grinning up at them through the frame.

+++

There’s an awkward silence as they make their way back to the waiting room. Hermione keeps looking at Ron hesitantly. He’s not sure what to say. Before they head back into the room to wait, she grabs his arm gently and turns to face him.

‘I’m so sorry. It’s just she looked very like…’

‘I know.’

‘And I - you’re so bloody handsome you know? And I know all the mums here think so and I just - I worry I’m the mean old witch, too busy at work to appreciate you.’

He grins down at her.

‘I find your jealousy endearing.’

‘Really?’ She blushes, looking ashamed. ‘I find it - exasperating.’

He pulls her in for a hug.

‘You know if you’re worried about appreciating me, we could always see to that tonight…’

She lets out a half-laugh and squeezes him.

‘You’re a git, you know that?’

‘I know. You love me though.’

‘I do.’

They take a seat, Ron’s arm slung around Hermione’s shoulders. It’s a good five minutes before Mr Simon appears. When he does, Ron’s heart sinks into his shoes. He’d forgotten just how handsome Mr Simon is. He has the curly hair of a young Cormac McLaggen and the dark colouring of Viktor Krum, replete with what Ron would term a stupid little beard.

‘Mr and Mrs Granger-Weasley?’

He looks at the flush on Hermione’s cheeks and feels a burning in his chest.

It’s going to be a long meeting.


	2. nsfw outtake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get heated after Parents' Evening.
> 
> Ending inspired by diva-gonzo's 'Rolling Like Thunder'.

As soon as they leave Mr Simon’s classroom, assured that Rose is performing exceptionally well, Ron pulls Hermione to him with a fierce, blazing look in his eyes. 

He kisses her full on the mouth, pinning her to a wall covered with crayon drawings, earning a gasp from a passing mother. Hermione pulls back, blushing and half-irritated, half-flustered.

‘Ron!’

He whispers in her ear.

‘Home. Now.’

She doesn’t object. 

They walk quickly to the nearest exit, Apparating surreptitiously behind the large bins at the back of the playground. Realising that they’ve paid Teddy for another hour of babysitting, Ron takes the initiative to Apparate them directly to the bedroom, silencing and sealing the room. 

Breathing heavily, he turns to face his wife, who is looking at him with flushed cheeks, biting her lip in a way that is ridiculously sexual to him. He steps towards her, grabbing her face with his hands, pressing a deep kiss onto her soft lips. 

She gasps, and he moves her backwards, til her knees meet the edge of the bed and she buckles. He presses her shoulders down into the mattress, never breaking the kiss, his hands moving to skim the sides of her body and grab her hands in his.

Leaning on his forearms, hovering above her, he pulls back, looking directly into her eyes.

‘Mine.’ He says, his breath hitching, no question in his voice.

‘Yours. Always.’ 

She leans up to kiss him again, and he breaks the kiss only to make his way down the side of her neck, kissing and biting, focussing on the soft spot just below her earlobe, the spot that makes her melt.

He hesitates for a moment, a hot rush of vulnerability sudden in his stomach.

‘You don’t – I don’t need a stupid little beard?’

He winces as soon as he’s said it.

She pulls her arms up around his neck and pulls him close, so that her lips are at his ear.

‘The only person I ever want to be here with is you.’

He lets out a sigh and collapses against her.

‘And I always prefer your beard.’

She knows that the response to his self-deprecation isn’t laughter but a deep, physical form of reassurance. She wraps her legs around his hips and they switch positions, so that she’s on top of him.

His mouth reaches up to find hers as she unbuttons his shirt, making short work of his necktie, running her hands down his torso, leaving his shirt wide open. He pushes up from the mattress and tries to remove her dress, finding the zipper and none too gently tugging it down. 

Shaking her head, she pushes him back onto the bed, rising onto her knees. She pulls his trousers and boxers down, before kicking off her shoes and slipping out of her knickers. Ron is speechless, his mind and his senses drowning in the sensations of her soft thighs encompassing his and the hot heat of her core coming to envelop him entirely, hidden under soft folds of fabric.

_She hasn’t even taken her bloody clothes off_ , he thinks to himself in awe, admiring the way her breasts are spilling out of the top of the simple purple dress. He reaches up and pulls the straps of her bra down, biting down on her shoulder as she rolls on top of him.

It’s an urgent kind of wanting, each of them clinging to the other to steady their minds and reaffirm what they already know. 

Ron slips his hands up under her dress onto her thighs, his hands spread and gripping, thumbs grazing the soft hair of her centre. She presses down onto him, her hips rocking back and forth, rolling him straight to the point where he can’t even remember his own name. 

Thankfully, she’s saying it.

And that’s all it takes for him to lose it entirely. He comes hard and quickly, rising up to press her to him, biting down on her shoulder as she gasps into his ear.

They stay like that for a moment, suspended in the aftershocks. Gently, Ron lies back onto the bed, taking Hermione with him, feeling himself slip out of her, mourning the loss of the tight, sodden heat. She lets out a small noise of frustration.

Kicking his shoes and trousers off the rest of the way, he clambers to situate himself on top of her, one hand lost in gripping her hair, the other finding its way back under that bloody intoxicating, infuriating dress.

She gasps as he begins to stroke her, and he can feel that it won’t be long until she’s undone. He searches her face, taking in the flush in her cheeks and the fluttering of her eyelashes, the way her eyes squeeze shut in pleasure when he catches her _just there_ , the way her chest rises from the bed as she starts to come.

She lets out a soft gasping moan as it happens, her body contracting around Ron’s long fingers, her legs spread and wanton. He rests his head on her shoulder, kissing her neck, covering the marks he’s left with the tenderest touch of his lips. He rolls to the side, and Hermione, after casting a quiet _tergeo_ , curls into his side.

They stare at one another for a beat, and then start to laugh.

‘We’re idiots. Jealous idiots.’ Hermione says, her eyes watering as she giggles.

‘Total idiots.’ Ron agrees, sniggering.

‘We’re going to have to Apparate back out,’ Hermione presses her head to his shoulder, her body shaking with laughter.

‘Bloody hell. It’s like sneaking in and out of the Burrow again.’

‘Are you more scared of the kids or your Mum?’

‘I’ll get back to you on that.’

When they finally do arrive at their front door, the kids run up to them, followed by a smiling Teddy Lupin who, apart from an inexplicable green ink stain on his forehead and a hole in his t-shirt, seems to have survived. As Hermione goes to grab some coins to pay Teddy with, Rose’s voice rings out, loud and clear.

‘Dad - where’s your tie?’

_Shit._


End file.
